


The Road Never Ends Where It's Supposed To.

by Reddwarfer



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Happy Ending, Multi, Post-Series, Pre-Relationship, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/pseuds/Reddwarfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost a year after Sam last saw Fiona and Mike, he and Jesse get envelopes in the mail. Sam's not sure exactly where it'll lead them, but he's more than ready to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road Never Ends Where It's Supposed To.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



> When I saw Burn Notice on your list, I had to pick it. This wasn't as graphic as I'd have liked to write, but it felt right where I left them. I hope you enjoy it.

The plain, slightly battered envelope arrives with little fanfare almost a year later. Sam is still munching idly on a piece of toast. He takes the weight of it in his hand, lifting it up and down, figuring it can't be a hostage note: too heavy. Too light to be someone suing him. 

With a shrug, Sam sticks the last of his toast in his mouth, opens it, and finds a plane ticket leaving Miami tomorrow for Manchester, New Hampshire. There's nothing else inside the envelope, which doesn't exactly surprise him, and just the faintest scent of blueberries. 

Sam digs in his pocket for his phone and hovers over his contact list for a few seconds before stowing it back in his pocket. Apparently, he has some packing to do.

It's close to five when he finds himself sipping a mojito, watching the beach at Carlito's.

"So, do you think it's them?" Jesse says by way of greeting as he sits down next to him. He pulls out a matching plane ticket. He gives it a glance, noting in surprise that they've been booked in the same row.

He gives Jesse half-shrug. "Can't think of anyone else who'd fly us out to New Hampshire, of all places."

"Are we going?" Jesse asks, then, before signaling for a drink. 

Sam takes another sip of his drink and eyes the world around him thoughtfully. "Why the hell not?"

Smiling, Jesse lifts his beer in a half-assed salute. "Thought so. What are you going to tell your lady friend?"

"Oh, she's on one of those single lady cruises," Sam says, and at Jesse's expression, adds, "Oh, no. One of her friends just got a divorce. This is a support thing. You know, they go out on a cruise together, get drunk, and help her hit on young men until she feels better. Should be back in a few weeks."

"That sounds...very cathartic," Jesse says diplomatically. "Pick you up tomorrow at eight?" 

"It has to be them," Sam groans, rather theatrically, if he's being fair, "Only they'd be so sadistic as to book me on a flight that leaves after three in the morning, but before noon."

Jesse just sits back in his chair and laughs.

**

They find out they've been upgraded to First Class when they arrive at boarding. Sam raises an eyebrow at Jesse, who just shrugs in response.

"I could get used to this," Sam says when the friendly blond flight attendant hands him his drink promptly, with a bright, toothy smile.

Jesse nods at him, taking a sip at his own drink. "Not bad at all."

"Usually, when I'm on a plane, it's a single engine. And I'm either heading into or out of some sort of firefight."

"Miss it?" Jesse asks, because both of their lives have been quieter this past year, despite the fact they still do their best to help the folks in Miami that Mike and Fi no longer can.

Sam eyes him thoughtfully. "Sometimes. Not as much as I miss other things."

"I'll drink to that," Jesse says, tilting his cup towards Sam's.

Sam grins. 

"Sirs." Sam looks up and sees another flight attendant standing in the aisle, holding a piece of paper. She's young, has curly black hair, and a curious expression on her face. "I think these are for you." She hands each of them a small manila envelope, their names written in cursive on the front. They also have the faint scent of blueberries.

"Thanks," Sam and Jesse say over each other. She gives them another nod and goes to check on a person two rows ahead of them, who'd just flicked on their call light.

"Any ideas?" Jesse asks, eyeing the small manila envelope distrustfully. 

Sam just shakes his head ruefully. "Nothing is ever simple with those two."

He opens it up to find two driver's licenses under two separate names he's never used before and two matching credit cards. Sam looks over at Jesse to see him holding the same. 

"Dan McGreggor," Sam says, amused, "and Paul Bilton." 

Jesse huffs out a laugh. "Mine are Roberto Canton and Milton Richards. Milton? Really?"

"I can see it," Sam says with a chuckle. "So, Millie, what do you think is in store for us next?"

"I can and will kill you if you don't shut up," Jesse replies, teasing. "And something ridiculously complicated, no doubt."

Sam sighs, as he waves over the nearest flight attendant. The blond one with the grin. "Another drink for me and my friend. Thanks, buddy."

**

"What now?" Jesse says after they made their way through the departure gates. He hefts his bag more firmly on his shoulder and looks around. "I doubt they'd meet us here."

"Too many cameras," Sam says in agreement. "Well, we're not going anywhere if we don't get ourselves some wheels. Let's head over there." With a nod, Sam indicates the car rental kiosk.

"Oh," the attendant says as soon as they approach. He shuffles a few papers and places a set of keys on the desk. "Mr. Bilton, Mr. Canton. I have your car all ready for you. I just need a credit card."  
"How'd you know it was us?" Sam asks, handing over the proper credit card and license. 

The man—Liam, according to his name tag—smiled at him. "I was told to look out for two men, one 'reasonably fashionable' and the other looking like he did all his clothes shopping in high-end tourist shops in Miami."

Jesse does an obnoxious faux-laugh-cough thing into his hand and the attendant just stays smiling and friendly-like as he hands him the receipt. He explains exactly where to pick up their car and about their return policy. "Thanks for choosing Avis."

"You're welcome," Jesse cuts in, preventing Sam from defending his clothes. "We'll be on our way now." Jesse grabs his arm and hustles him towards the exit where the cars are parked.

"What?" Sam says, tugging his arm away. 

Jesse just rolls his eyes. "Nevermind. Let's get going."

Their car turns out to be a sedate silver four-door sedan. Not nearly as flashy as he's used to but, he can't really complain. There's nothing precisely wrong with driving a Honda Accord. He's just not used to it.

"Where to now?" Jesse says, as he settles himself in the passenger seat.

Sam looks at him, shrugging, before they both turn their attention to the navigation system in the car. Jesse presses the on-button, and neither of them are surprised when they realize there's already a destination set on it.

An annoying computerized voice guides them out of the airport and onto the highway as they head north, then east. 

"God, man, play some tunes or something, I'm going stir-crazy," Sam says after all of twenty minutes. 

"This good?" Jesse says after playing around with the dial to settle on an oldies station. Sam would be annoyed, but he likes the song, so he decides to let it go.

"Ameeerican woman," Sam singing along, "stay away from meeee."

Jesse groans, "Oh, god. This is going to be a long trip."

Sam shoots him a happy smirk and continues, "Don't come hangin' around my door...I don't wanna see your face no more."

"This is hell," Jesse declares, side eyes Sam for a moment, and joins in singing the next line.

**

Three stops for snacks and bathroom breaks, two more car rental stores, and another set of envelopes later, Sam and Jesse find themselves driving down a long, winding road in a town smaller than Elsa's house in northern Maine.

Jesse pokes Sam in the arm, jerking him out of his daze. "I think we're almost there."

Sam sits up, stretching in his seat. Jesse took over driving, and the radio station, three hours ago. If he never hears another Taylor Swift song, he'll be a happy, happy man. It strikes him, then, that it's been a year, to the day, since the last time he laid eyes on Mike and Fiona.

There's a lone cabin at the end of the road, smoke drifting from the chimney, and a tire swing hanging from a tree. It's sedate, domestic, and looks like one of those scenes on the five hundred piece puzzles available at drug stores. 

Despite having the entirety of their trip to get psych himself up for it, he's still not prepared for the sight of Michael standing in the doorway, grin on his face, as he welcomes them inside.

Sam doesn't speak for a moment, just taking Mike in, how much happier he looks, younger, and as if he's not constantly plagued by sleepless nights and bullets. He pulls him in for a hug. "It's good to see you, Mikey."

"You too, Sam," Mike replies, and then he hugs Jesse, which should surprise him less than it does. "And you, Jesse."

"They're here?" Fiona says, walking into the room. She looks happier, too, which makes Sam grin as he wraps her up in a hug. "Hi, Sam."

"Fi," Sam replies, gives himself another few second, and pulls back. Jesse hugs her right after, but far more briefly. He looks around the room, sees the toy cars, and says, "Hey, where's the kid?"

"Sleeping," Mike says, "Figured it'd be better to let us catch up first. We'll have breakfast together tomorrow."

"Good idea," Sam agrees. He doubts the kid needs to think about the sorts of things they'll inevitably start talking about.

"Sit down," Fiona says, "relax. You can put your bags over here." She points over to a decent sized closet. "It'll be out of the way."

Mike brings them all a beer, and they sit around the living room, watching the fire instead of talking. Two days ago, Sam would have guessed they'd be tripping over each other to fill in a year's worth of silence, but now that they're there, it sort of dies in his throat.

"It's really good to see you," Mike says, finally. "It would have been sooner, but...we've got to be careful."

"Yeah, I understand that, buddy," Sam says. "Can't be seen visiting a city you've been buried in."

Mike chuckles. "Yeah, that's not the best way to convince the world you're dead."

"What have you two been up to?" Fiona asks, and Sam takes in how different she is to the last time they talked. Relaxed is never a word he'd ever associate with Fiona, and yet here she is, curled on the couch, smile on her face as peaceful as he's ever seen her.

Jesse fills Fi and Mike in on their various exploits, Sam contributing whenever he feels Jesse's missed an important point or interesting tidbit. He takes over after a while, talking about Elsa and her lady friends, who are an endless font of business and drama.

"What about you guys?" Sam says after Jesse finishes describing how they spent two days on a boat after a drug runner they'd been chasing accidentally shot out the engine before he knocked himself out with the kickback from the shotgun, fell overboard, and drowned.

"Nothing too exciting," Mike says, and this is different than all the other times he's heard similar things out of Mike's mouth. "I fix cars. And Fiona takes bored, rich people on survivalist trips out in the woods. We take care of Charlie. Enjoy the quiet."

"Sounds nice," Sam says, and means it. Even though part of him wanted to find a Michael and Fiona raring to get back in the thick of it. He misses them, a lot more than he wants to admit. There's a curl of guilt in his gut over it, but he ignores the sensation.

**

Three rounds of beer later, Fiona's curled on the seat next to him, foot poking his thigh. Mike's on his other side, arm over the back of the couch. Jesse's sitting in the armchair across from them, head leaned back, and smiling.

His family, Sam thinks ridiculously, all in the same room again.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat," Jesse says. "Over six hours in the car with this guy," Jesse jerks his thumb in Sam's direction," will do that to you."

"Hey," Sam says half-heartedly, but if he's being honest, he'd probably have gone to sleep two hours ago if it'd been up to him.

Mike gets to his feet and walks over to a linen closet and brings back a pillow, sheet, and blanket. "Don't really have much in the way of spare rooms here. Hope the couch is fine."

Jesse shakes his head as he takes the bundle from Mike's hands. "Don't worry it's fine."

"It's not even a pullout," Fiona pipes in, with a cheeky grin. "Sleep well."

"I will," Jesse says, busying himself with the sheet.

Sam looks around. "What about me? I'm not looking forward to sleeping on the floor. My back can't handle it."

"Don't worry so much, Sam," Fiona says, "Come on."

Mike just grins and follows after her.

Sam stands there, shooting a look over his shoulder to Jesse, who just grins back at him tiredly. "Night."

With a short chuckle, Jesse replies, "Good Night."

Sam hurries to catch up to Mike and Fiona, who are stopped at a doorway, peeking inside. Charlie's passed out on a small twin bed the way only kids who'd spent the entire day playing can manage. Sam smiles. He's glad the kid's doing well.

"We're in here," Fiona says, opening the door at the end of the hall. The room is bigger than Sam expects as is the bed that dominates the room. The room's decked out in burgundy and cream, not colors he'd expect of Mike, but he's coming to realize just how much his friend's changed now that he's out of the life. 

"Comfy," Sam comments, but Mike ignores him in favor of stripping down to his boxers and crawling into the bed.

"Hurry it up, Sam," Fiona demands, tugging a worn t-shirt over her head after pushing off her pants.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replies, quickly pulling off his own shirt and pants. He approaches the bed hesitantly, but Fiona simply pushes him face first into the mattress. After a few uncoordinated minutes of arranging of limbs, he's staring up at the ceiling between Mike and Fiona, feeling more awkward than he had on his first date.

"Yanno, Mike," Sam says conversationally, "this is a lot more cozy than I expected my sleeping arrangements to be."

"Maybe we missed you," Fiona says from his other side. "Maybe we wanted you to know there's room for you, here."

Sam doesn't respond right away. There's a life waiting for him back in Miami. There's Elsa and Jesse and the work. There's the sun and the beach and the mojitos. There's Carlito's and the ocean. He's happy there, for the most part. But, he can't deny that not seeing Mike and Fiona every day makes it hard to enjoy all those things the way he used to.

Because Mike knows him better than just about anyone, he doesn't press him for an answer. Instead, he just says, "Go to sleep, Sam. It'll keep until tomorrow. This isn't an offer with an expiration date."

Fiona doesn't say anything else, just curls up against his shoulder and closes her eyes.

Sam looks over at Mike, and grins. "Share your yogurt with me and I'll think about it."

"Now that's a deal I have no problem making," Mike replies with a smile. 

Maybe not tomorrow and maybe not for a while yet, but Sam definitely thinks this is a life he could come back to, in time.

**Author's Note:**

> Where Mike and Fiona end up at the end of the series was deliberately ambiguous, but I had a feeling they were implying that they went back to Ireland. I sort of felt it would have made everything a thousand times more complicated, so I chose Maine because it could also work.


End file.
